Too Old to be Expats?

At almost 101, she is probably the oldest expat in the area.  

She is the expat I want to be 'when I grow up'.

I am not naming her because her name isn't as important to this tale as is her age.  She is simply living proof that quality time lived as an expat need not be age defined. 

Agios Nikolaos, our expat world

Just last week I saw her studiously bent over her latest needle work, chatting away with her longtime friends at a weekly crafter gathering in the village. A couple years ago, while seated next to her at a fundraiser she kept me entertained with her stories, . . . well, until the band started playing and she headed to the dance floor! 

Three birthday cakes, a party and many friends as I hit 70!

Although not as spry as she once was, I think of her as the poster child for the 'aging expat'.  And since becoming a septuagenarian last July, I now qualify as both 'aging' and 'expat'. 

So, finding someone 30 years my senior is gratifying as I ponder the question: Can one be too old to be an expat?

'It's only a number,' chided my just-turned-50 expat friend, as my tongue swelled in July when I attempted to say my age. Saying '70' in Greek (ev-do-MIN-ta) and English (s-s-seventy) continues to be difficult. When I can't wrap my head around something, I usually can't wrap my tongue around it either.

Coming of Age in Greece

Celebrating the purchase of our home with its former owners 

'Are we too old?' we asked ourselves as we debated the pros and cons of buying a home in Greece a decade ago.

Getting those first residency cards!

'Are we too old?' we asked ourselves again, a few years later, when we pondered becoming expats in Greece.

To think, that was back when we were mere 60-somethings!

When we decided to take the plunge, we reasoned that when we were 'too old' for the expat lifestyle, we would likely move back to the States. At the time we didn't think about how to define 'too old'. Instead, we set up 'age gauges'.

Our stairs would be an 'age gauge' we reasoned.

For instance, when we were no longer able to navigate the flight of 30-steps we climb between our Stone House on the Hill and our car, it would be time to pack up and move on. Thankfully, we still climb those stairs regularly, but now we talk about the logistics of a sloped sidewalk through the garden alternative when the 'time comes'.

Olive harvest equipment replaced us!

Olive harvest has been another 'age gauge'. When we couldn't actively participate any longer, we'd say, 'it just might be time to. . .,' never really completing the sentence. Well, thankfully our hired crew is so mechanized, that we no longer play much role in the hard part of harvest, so that gauge is out the window. 

In the blink of an eye, we are 70-somethings

We know that the unconventional lifestyle of an expat doesn't ward off the pesky signs of aging. We are now 70-somethings and despite the claim that 70 is the new 50, our bodies often dispute that after a walk home up the hill on which we live, or a day spent working in the garden or grove! 

We probably do sound like 'old people' when reminding friends who've been saying for a decade that they were coming to visit us in Greece -- that it might be time to schedule that trip. But seriously, time could be running out. Even living a Mediterranean lifestyle, the longevity factor in Greece is 80.2, roughly the same as that of the European Union. (And that is better than the US, where it is only 77.5 years).

The Elderly Expat

Expats of 'a certain age' set off on the sea

The expat and Mediterranean lifestyle combine to keep us far more physically and mentally active in our Greek world than we are in the States. Expats of 'a certain age' here are pursuing any number of activities, among them: gardening, swimming, biking, hiking, trekking, traveling, socializing, and participating in volunteer activities.  

Expat friends of 'a certain age' at lunch in the village

I like that phrase, 'a certain age', possibly inspired from a similar French phrase, that puts a person in a pleasant holding pattern of sorts, 'not still young but not yet old'. It, like Mae West's, 'You are never too old, to become younger', are far more agreeable to me than 'elderly'. The World Health Organization defines elderly persons as 60 or older. 

Spring hike on a kalderimi

If that is the case, then there are a lot of elderly American expats scattered about the world. Of the approximate 10 million American expats, (U.S. State Department statistics) about18 percent, or 1.8 million, of us are 61 years of age or older. 

The ability to live as an expat isn't defined by chronological age alone; we all know that health, mobility, and mental attitude have much to do with the quality and quantity of life regardless of where one lives.

Too Old or Not?

In researching this post, I came across a hodge-podge of thoughts on age, three of which I felt worthy of repeating:

How old is too old?

First, according to a survey by TD Ameritrade 73% of women and 59% of men felt that 70 IS the new 50, based on the fact that we are living healthier and longer lives. (It didn't list the ages of those surveyed though.)

Second, American writer, Anne Lamott, in an opinion piece for the Washington Post titled, "Living on Borrowed Time,' made me laugh: 'Getting older is almost like changing species, from cute middle-aged white-tailed deer, to yak. We are both grass eaters, that that's about the only similarity.'

Short, shorter. . .vanished?

But if was an article on aging by fellow septuagenarian Robert Reich, an American political economist and professor, that provided a new perspective on the question I've been pondering. He cited a study that said: after age 60 one loses a half-inch in height every five years.  And that gave this once-five-foot-tall writer, a whole new perspective on being an aging expat. If I live long enough, I just might vanish. Then I won't need to figure out if I am too old to continue being an expat!

That's it for this week from sunny, but chilly, Greece. 

So how about you?  Have you reached 'a certain age' that now influences travels or expat adventures? Share your thoughts via comments or email.

As always, thanks for the time you spent with us today - hope to see you back again. . .bring a friend with you!

In Greece Where There's Smoke. . .

The old adage, 'where there there's smoke, there's fire' takes on a different meaning in Greece. 

Olive harvest and burn season in Greece.

Because in Greece where there is smoke, it is likely from a cigarette. 

Our recent house guest was the one who called it to our attention as he viewed our world from the perspective of a first-time visitor to Greece. 'Don't they worry about lung cancer?' he asked, as we approached an eating establishment. Then reminding us of the impacts of secondhand smoke he directed us to areas where we might least be impacted by the neighboring table's smoke.

The ubiquitous ashtray 

While smoking inside public facilities is illegal and punishable by fines, it is okay to smoke outside while seated in restaurant and bar patios, waiting areas at bus or train stations, and outside of airports. 

What gobsmacked our guest was the numbers of people smoking. 

What gobsmacked us was the realization that it didn't bother us anymore - in fact, we hadn't paid it any mind until it was pointed out to us. 

Smoking is a tradition, a part of Greek everyday life. They smoke packaged cigarettes, they roll cigarettes, they vape. A survey a couple years ago showed that nearly 37% of the population regularly lights up. In fact, Greeks aren't the only ones. Many of our fellow expats and tourists who hail from countries on this side of the pond also smoke. 

Cigarettes and coffee cups a normal table next to us this morning

 

Each time our guest pointed out instances of smoking, we thought about how little attention we pay to it and behaviors that once could have caused us great concern and consternation.  

Mom and the kids 

Smoking is simply such a part of the fabric of Greek life that despite the implementation of a spate of laws and fines to curb it within the last decade, there appears to be little desire or peer pressure to kick the habit. 

It got me to thinking about other behaviors we have come to accept as normal, but which are bona fide health hazards. Things like not wearing helmets on bikes or motorcycles, transporting multiple people onto a motorcycle or scooter at a time, or riding in the back of a pickup.  We see them done all the time.

Helmet-less in Greece and having a good time

Don't get me wrong. There are laws and fines concerning smoking and they have - generally -succeeded in preventing smoking inside public venues.  Greece has a helmet law, dictating a 350 euro fine for failure to wear them on motorized bikes of any power. (Once we laughed at an elderly man who zipped past bareheaded on his scooter, but he stopped and put on his helmet before pulling into his driveway. He was more fearful of his family's reaction than getting a ticket, we speculated.) 

Tourists travel the main highway to Kalamata with helmets

You can tell a tourist on a rental bike by the helmets he or she wears. Helmets are recommended for bike riders but not required. Despite our narrow roadways and uneven surfaces, there is a slew of locals who ride bikes but don't wear helmets. 

Harvest time vehicles at the olive processor

It isn't illegal to ride in the back of a pickup.  From a practical standpoint in our area, that is the way many olive harvest crew members get to a grove and back. It is normal to see workers seated in the bed or a truck atop nets and holding onto equipment. Sometimes they ride atop the load in the small trailers pulled by tractors. 

Making a right hand turn after stopping for a red light is illegal in Greece. Maybe it is for safety, maybe not. But it is done so routinely in the United States that we have to think twice when the light is red, and we stop then start to make a righthand turn before it turns green.

Annual equipment tests are mandatory.

Wearing a seat belt is compulsory inside a car but some of the vehicles driven here are so old I doubt they are even equipped with seatbelts. It is interesting, though, that all car owners are required to have an annual vehicle test; one year it is for emissions and the other year for brakes, lights, shocks and a number of other parts. We suspect few of the old beater cars actually are tested by their owners.  

The law requires child restraint seats and the young parents we know adhere to without question by young parents.

A new way of life

In our area of the Peloponnese, we have two police officers and one patrol car. Sometimes we see them on break at a local taverna having a coffee and cigarette, other times patrolling the area. We suspect they don't spend a lot of time monitoring smoking in local establishments nor making stops for minor traffic offenses. If unhealthy behaviors are going to change, it will need to be from personal choices. 

Frankly we like this somewhat contrarian approach to life. While we haven't taken up smoking or riding in the back of a pickup, we certainly don't find it objectionable. It is a part of the culture of the community in which we've chosen to make our home. Sometimes we find the lack of laws and government enforcement refreshing. Here you take responsibility for your own actions and can't blame someone for not warning you of hazards. 

Wild boar warning sign in the Mani

A goal of our expat life was to experience a new culture, even adapt to it.  And after nearly a decade of cultural emersion -- without even being consciously aware of it -- I think I can safely say we have adapted to much of the Greek lifestyle.

Yet, if this post has made you think we are living somewhat on the wild side of life here. . .let me assure you that we probably aren't. Because here they do warn us about the wild side of life. . .the wild boar warning sign pictured above is case in point.

How about your travels? Have you encountered any local behaviors or traditions you found objectionable? Or which you thought of as a health hazard, but the locals didn't? 

We thank you for your time and send wishes for safe and happy travels to you and yours~ hope you'll join us next time when I ponder the question of being too old to be an expat. . .

In Greece: The Real Game of Chance

Greeks have spent 22.7 billion in the first eight months of this year . . .gambling.

The rather staggering figure comes from the Hellenic Gaming Commission which monitors our adopted country's gaming industry. It is an industry that includes land-based casinos, lotteries, horse racing and chance games organized by the Greek Organization of Football Prognostics (OPAP).

Stone House on the Hill olive oil

Yet, those numbers don't include the biggest game of chance that Greece has to offer: growing olives for olive oil.  

After the olive season we've just had at our Stone House on the Hill, I can tell you there is no bigger game of chance around than producing those little buttons of olive oil!  It is nothing short of spinning a big ol' Roulette wheel in the early spring and waiting to see where the harvest ball will land come late October. 

A bit wrinkled this year

We harvested early this year, within a week of the oil processing plants opening. It was a race against time for us if we hoped to have anything to harvest. Our olives were shades of green, purple, and black - all looking withered and worn. They were beginning to drop - and that is something you don't want! 

Lady Luck smiled on us and kept most of what there was of them on the trees long enough for us to get them harvested in late October. For many of the large producers whose groves stretch from sea level up into the hillsides of the Taygetos Mountains, it will be December or January before the harvest is complete.  

When city supplied water dries up, you buy water to use at home

This year the odds were against all Mediterranean olive oil producers; our area was no exception. A combination of high temperatures in the summer and a continuing lack of water combined to turn what should have been plump little oil laden nuggets into raisins. The same problem existed in Spain and Italy as well, both, along with Greece are major producers of the world's olive oil.

I won't even venture into all the ways insects and disease can skew the odds against growers. Suffice to say if the pesky Dako, a fly the specializes in destroying the flesh of the olive and degrades the olive oil by making it acidic, doesn't get you, there's a new menacing bacterium out there destroying olive trees in Italy, Spain and parts of Greece.  It clogs the tree's lifeline so it can't absorb water and it dies.

A Toss of the Dice

Olives begin to form in the spring

We had high hopes in the spring when the miniscule white flowers began developing into olives. Barely the size of a grape seed, we start monitoring their growth. There is little else to be done until harvest. We don't water and we don't spray.

Very few growers in our area - no matter the size of their groves - have formal watering systems. Of course, it wouldn't help if we did as we don't have enough municipal water to have a steady supply for use in the house, let alone watering a grove of trees. (And this year our municipally supplied water has been laden with salt, so it wouldn't have been good for the trees anyway.)  

We spin the wheel of chance each spring

We didn't spray our trees this year; not because of bio and environmental concerns, but because the guy who sprays is building himself a house and was not available. And they say when we do spray, it is bio spray. Who knows? Many told us it was so hot this summer that we didn't need to spray anyway. Basically, no self-respecting Dako wants to destroy raisins. They prefer the juicy kind of olives as we all do.  

Greek Olive Oil Production

Those are this year's olives going to press

Greece comes in third in the world's olive oil production with 80% percent of its orchard land growing some 117 million olive trees.  Fifteen million olive trees are planted here in our Messenian region.  

These bags are filled with our olives - the Stone House on the Hill

We have just under 20 trees.  Ours is a good-sized hobby grove - big enough to produce more oil than we use but not considered industrial sized.  Our grove, as long-time readers know, carpets a terraced hillside making it a difficult one to harvest. We hire people who have the equipment and knowledge to conduct the harvest. On harvest day we do as we are instructed by them.

We've been made redundant by mechanized harvest equipment

In the past we've had a cadre of friends who've volunteered to help beat and rake the olives from the branches and crawl across plastic nets on hands and knees gathering the fallen fruit into gunny sacks. This year our grove was draped from top to bottom with enormous nets and a crew of three used motorized harvesters (think pitchfork with caffeine jitters) that shake the olives from the tree.  The small crop and experienced crew made the workday for us easier, if still long.

Win, Lose or Draw

Memory of previous harvest yields

Our harvest was less than half of last years in terms of kilos harvested; 407 to 187. However, those scrawny, wrinkled looking olives had far more oil in them than we imagined possible. We had 33 liters of oil, down from the 59 of last year, but respectable. The good news is that olives are in short supply, so the price paid us for our excess oil was more than double the per liter price paid two years ago. 

Olive oil production. . .what a game of chance. . .what a win!

We'd call this year's game of chance a win!  However, the real win is that we get to participate each year in a ritual that has gone on for centuries in this adopted country of ours. I recall at the time we purchased our house trying to imagine what in the world we would do with the small olive grove that came with it. . .now I can't imagine life without it. 

That's it for this week.  Autumn has been glorious in our slice of Greece - so much so, we've had no desire to travel. I'm sure we'll be bitten by the bug again soon though. What about you? Where have your travels taken you or where will your travel plans take you?

Hope you are back with us soon. Safe travels to you and yours~

In Greece ~ The Curse is Lifted!

 Last week we officially lifted the curse that had been cast upon us.  

Back in ancient Greece curses were a real thing. And for a time, I'd started thinking they were a real thing in this 21st century Greece as well.  It seemed as if we had been targeted by the famed and feared 'evil eye' and a curse or spell had been cast upon us.

Mati's to ward off the 'evil eye'

Although our Stone House on the Hill sports any number of 'matis' the Greek icons that are believed to ward off the evil eye, we had fallen victim to our curse sometime during or in the aftermath of 'those Covid years'.  

For that reason, I named it, the Covid Curse.

Amathus archeological site in Cyprus

In comparison to some Greek curses that have been cast over the centuries, ours was a mild one.  It thankfully was nothing at all like the one unearthed in 2008 during excavations of Amathus, the ancient city state in Cyprus. Archeologists there in 2008 discovered a lead tablet, believed to date back for centuries, on which was written, 'may your penis hurt when you make love' and with it the image of a man holding in his hand something described as being the shape of an hourglass.

Covid-cursed castaways?

Our curse was one that didn't inflict pain or hardship on us, just a bit of mental anguish and embarrassment. It seemed to have made us: castaways.

Visitors return to the village in droves.

While expat friends in the village began welcoming houseguests as soon as the Covid travel restrictions lifted, we waited . . . and waited . . .and waited.  No one came to visit. No one even mentioned coming to visit. In the pre-Covid years we had guests both coming to the village and to our home to see us and our world at regular intervals.

A long-haul flight between West Coast USA and Greece

For a time, we reasoned that it was the lingering fears of Covid that kept them away, or perhaps, the distance they would need to travel. The majority of our guests - back when we had them - came from Washington State in the US Pacific Northwest.  

 But then our friend Chuck, who hails from the same Washington town and now lives just down the road, started using a calendar to keep track of his upcoming guests. Then our expat friends from California, now just down the road the other direction in the village, started using a calendar to keep track of their guests. Another couple from Portland, Oregon has also been hosting guests from back home regularly.

Easter dinner with expat friends and their guests

Thankfully those expat friends who had guests let us share them - inviting us to join them for holiday celebrations, dinners, drinks or morning coffees.  Friends quit asking if we had guests coming anytime soon.

Finally, The Curse is Lifted

For a time, I actually thought that maybe what we needed was a 'curse expert', one who in ancient times, specialized in the writing of curses and spells, according to historian/archeologist and author Jessica Lamont. I figured if they could write a curse or spell, they could probably conjure up a removal incantation of some sort as well. 

Lamont, by the way, is an expert on the subject and her most recent book published by Oxford Press is titled, 'In Blood and Ashes, Curse Tablets and Binding Spells in Ancient Greece'. 

Curse was lifting. Dinner with two sets of visitors!!

Before we resorted to some sort of exorcism, we started seeing signs of the curse losing power. A blogger friend visited at the same time as friends returned to finish the visit, they'd cut short in 2020 when Greece closed down for Covid.

48 hours of guests. . .how great it was to see friends!

Then former neighbors of ours in Kirkland, WA, now of California, tacked on a side trip to the Mani to visit us as part of a whirlwind Greek trip.  We had a fabulous 48 hours with them in June.

The curse was officially lifted last week with the arrival of our first houseguest since November 2019.  

Curse was lifted: our first houseguest since Nov. 2019

My friend and writing colleague, Brian Cantwell, (cub reporters together in our 20's and then he became my travel editor at the Seattle Times, during my freelance years) arrived for a long weekend stay as part of his 10-day tour of Greece. Brian lives on a remote San Juan Island, called Center Island, year-round population of 10 households.  He adapted well to our rural Peloponnese expat world. He writes of life on his island at Cantwell's Reef. He also wrote about his time with us if you want his take on the visit!

Exploring our world with our guest

His arrival at the Kalamata bus station on a Friday kicked off a long weekend of eating, touring, drinking, touring, hiking and swimming that continued until his Tuesday departure.  

The curse was lifted!

It was like the olden days of having guests!  But just as he admitted being rusty at travel logistics (his first trip after Covid) we were a bit rusty at being hosts.  It was good to get back into practice again.

More to Come?

Our slice of the Mani

Between January and August 2023, some 18.76 million travelers to Greece transited the Athens Airport. That is 8% more than traveled through it in 2019, before Covid.   We are so thankful for our guests who were among them and who made the effort to get to the Mani to see us.  

We expats agree that folks back home don't understand just how much it means to us all to have friends and family who want to come and experience our slice of Greece.  We hope the trend continues.

Your travel tales:

Travel isn't for sissies!

And speaking of travel, we want to thank those of you who responded to our question last week about your unexpected travel detours and delays after you read of ours. Here's a sampling of your responses:

 Emily from California told us: 

 'Our latest travel nightmare was due to a late arrival and missing our connection on a SFO to Istanbul flight. Although we were whisked all over CDG (Charles de Gaulle airport, Paris), up and down elevators to the tarmac and sent in a van careening around planes, other vans, baggage carts, and meal wagons, we ultimately missed our connection. We then had to wait in CDG for 12 hours for the next flight to Istanbul, arriving in the middle of the night. On the return, we missed our connection from LAX to MRY and sat for 7 hours waiting for our 45-minute flight. Flying these days isn’t for sissies.' 

Tom and Jackie from Washington who traveled to Normandy echoed of her experiences with the Paris airport: 

'We have a history of dissatisfaction with CDG from past trips that was reaffirmed. We deplaned and walked the long hallways to Passport Control. The place was overwhelmed with travelers. We were sent to an Air Priority line to get faster service. Not so, other lines were moving while we stood not moving for over an hour and fifteen minutes. Fortunately, our driver waited, and we were able to get to Saint Lazare railway station in time for our noon departure to Rouen.'  

                                                                            ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

That's it for this week. Thanks for being with us! Olive harvest season is upon us in the Mani. We'll tell you more about autumn here in our next post. Until then safe travels to you and yours~

To Greece ~ The best laid plans. . .

Traveling between our US world and the Greek expat life we've chosen is a long haul no matter the route. We've come to see it as simply a condition of choosing to keep a toehold in two far distant points in the world. We make the trip back to the United States once a year. . .

A true long-haul flight between our worlds

Every once in a while, The Scout manages to find a route that shaves a bit of time off the trip while saving us some money.  He had done so this year. . .or so it seemed in the beginning. 

Gates at Kalamata International Airport

First, a bit of background for our tale:  British Airways (BA) flies a couple of times a week into our small Kalamata International Airport, a rather third world looking place that has two side-by-side departure gates, Gate 1 and Gate 2. It is international because flights from other countries land here. 

Its selling points are that it is easy to navigate, parking is 3 euros a day, it's close to our Greek home, and we can fly to Seattle from there, with a connection at London's Heathrow airport.  

We were flying round-trip Kalamata -Seattle - Kalamata although the price savings required a small, but manageable travel blip on our return flight. We would fly from Seattle to nearby Portland, Oregon -- a 30-minute flight -- on BA's partner airline, Alaska Air, and catch the BA flight to London from there.  

First leg: Manson to Seattle over Washington Mountain passes

Sounded simple enough at the time we made the reservation. We'd leave our Washington home at 9:30 a.m. Friday, Pacific Northwest time, make the four-hour drive to Seattle, have a few hours of time to spare at the airport, then some 20+ hours later arrive back at our Stone House on the Hill about 9 Saturday night, Greek time.

The Plans began Unraveling.

No matter how many times you confirm, recheck, and double-check travel plans these days, the travel gods still rule.  And sometimes they need a few laughs. This was to be one of those times.

Our plans began unraveling when we found the British Airlines check-in counter at SeaTac closed. A sign on the counter said it would open 3.5 hours before the next flight, problem was, it didn't say when that would be. A quick internet check showed it departing at 8 p.m. which meant the counter would open too late for us to check in for that little connecting flight to Portland.

Three heads are better than one 

Another woman traveler was in the same predicament. So, the three of us set off for the Alaska Air counters (at the opposite end of the airport). There, among the dozens of self-check-in kiosks, we finally spotted two humans staffing the Business Class counter.  The woman traveler went to one human, and we went to the other. 

Yes, we were assured, they could check us in! Problem was that they couldn't find our reservations nor the flight that British Air had booked us on to Portland. They called in reinforcements - three staff worked on our predicament and two worked on hers.  Finally, the five figured it out, tickets to Portland were issued and our bags were loaded on the conveyor belt.

Bags were heading back. . .were we?

While watching our bags depart, my mobile device pinged. An email from British Air had arrived saying our flight to London had been delayed by little over two hours, 'sorry for the inconvenience'.  

Our new London arrival time would be 2:15 pm. Saturday - 15 minutes after our flight for Kalamata left.

The Domino Effect

Ever notice that when things start going wrong it is like dominoes falling? Well, that was certainly the case with this trip: 

We were hiking back to the other end of the terminal, where the fast security line was located; glad to be part of the US trusted traveler program which allows us to use the speedy service. With all the check-in confusion that relaxing cushion of time we'd allowed ourselves was gone. We needed to get to the gate for the Portland flight. Wouldn't you know?  The speedy line was also being used by long-haul flight crews. We waited for some 80 crew members to be checked in before the 10 or so of us 'trusted travelers' were allowed through. 

Planning to have snacks and beverages at the airport, we hadn't eaten lunch. But no time for that now, we'd be lucky to at least get a final cup of Starbucks coffee before our flight boarded.

At the Starbucks counter a young man with bright blue hair - a color that rivaled that of the saleswoman in the phone store in my last post - took my order for a double latte. As I handed him my stack of dollars (it cost just under $7) he looked at the currency as if it were something repulsive and said, 'Oh, I can't take cash. . .' 

Okay. . .in retrospect, I could have dug out a credit card but that blank stare he gave me and my cash, simply broke the proverbial camel's back with the straw, 'Cancel the order!' I snarled as I stomped from the counter.

 

Sorry, no coffee on today's flight. . .

The Scout was disappointed at my failed mission. I assured him there was coffee on the plane. Our cheerful flight attendant promised it as soon as we were airborne. A few minutes into the flight, she picked up the microphone and, looking towards us, made a sad face, while announcing that our flight was going so fast there would be no beverage service.  

And we are finally off . . .late as promised

Better late than never - we were off!

In Portland, the BA representative issued us tickets all the way to Kalamata while noting we would miss that flight for which she had given us tickets. Ground staff in London would figure it out for us, she said with a smile. 

We actually learned what our new travel plans would be shortly before we arrived at Heathrow. Our flight attendant told us we'd be spending a night in London and flying to Kalamata the next day.

Flight connections madhouse at Heathrow

So many on our flight had missed connections that BA staff had set up a table outside the jetway and handed out dozens of new tickets from it.  Hotel, food and transportation vouchers had to be obtained at the Flight Connections desk, a place I'd call a centralized complaint/hysteria counter a train ride away in the massive Terminal 5. At the counter we fell in line with the dozens of others seeking vouchers.

Nearly an hour later with vouchers in hand, we were off to the bus stop where we'd just missed the hotel bus we needed. Nearly another hour later we were arriving at the nearby Radisson Blue Edwardian Hotel. It was 5 p.m.

At The Hotel - The Dominoes continued to fall

Lobby Radisson Blue Edwardian Hotel Heathrow

The opulent wood-paneled lobby adorned with a massive crystal chandelier was pretty welcome to these now weary travelers. Maybe this layover wasn't such a bad thing, we thought, until. . .  

'I am unable to give you a key to your room,' said the smiling desk clerk, explaining a system failure involving electrical and computer stuff had shut down the hotel's vital systems, like that of making room keys. Handing us a piece of plastic the size of a credit card, she said, 'This is the master key for the room. It is the only one that opens the door. If you lose it, you won't be able to get into the room and we won't be able to get you into the room.' 

You'd better believe we treated it with respect.

Plenty of vouchers - too bad the hotel wouldn't take them

The hotel's restaurant looked inviting. Called Steak and Lobster, it offered some nice menu choices and to our amazement the vouchers we each had were so generous that they covered even the most expensive menu item.  While sipping a pre-dinner glass of wine, The Scout asked if reservations were required. The good news, we didn't need reservations. The bad news, they wouldn't take the vouchers -- in either of the hotel's two restaurants (and not because of the system failure). 

It turned out that a 21-person tour group had also missed a flight and BA sent them to this hotel as well. The hotel had opened a conference room for us all, offering a buffet table meal of beef stew, mashed potatoes and steamed broccoli and cauliflower in exchange for the 23 pound ($28US) per person voucher.  

That proverbial straw snapped again. . .We ate in the restaurant on our own dime. . .and had a fabulous meal while vowing never to return to this hotel no matter what the reason we might find ourselves overnighting at Heathrow. 

Destination: Kalamata ~ Delayed

A new day. . .a new delay

Leaving the hotel in the early morning darkness on Sunday morning, we shouldn't have been surprised when we checked the departure board at the airport for our gate to find that the flight to Kalamata was 'delayed' - those travel gods were still laughing. 

We rejoiced when it really was only less than a half hour delay. We'd be home by mid-afternoon!

Kalamata's runway - finally!

Ready to leap out of my seat with joy when we touched down at Kalamata, my happiness was momentary . . .

With the small terminal some distance ahead, our plane stopped on the runway. 'Folks,' said the pilot, 'we've got too many planes in and have to wait for one to take off before I can enter the apron.'  Within minutes an Austrian Airlines plane raced past us on the runway and was airborne. 

But still, we didn't move.  

We sat. 

So close. . .Kalamata airport terminal

'Folks, again sorry for the delay,' began the pilot, 'but we've still got too many planes on the apron. It is going to be awhile. I am turning off the engine, feel free to come visit the cockpit, use the bathrooms, as it is going to be an hour.'

An hour! 

We both later admitted to having thoughts of hijacking the parked plane, forcing open the door and escaping using the emergency evacuation slide. Luckily planes were shifted, and we were at the terminal 45 minutes later.

Moral of the Story: Travel Gods need their jollies so be prepared.

It's been two weeks so we can tell this story and finally find some humor in it. And those of you who are looking for a reason, not to travel, you can't use this as a case in point, as it was an anomaly (we hope!). We've never had so many dominos of disruption falling on a trip.

We do tell it with a tag line of 'be prepared' when you travel these days. Prepare for delays, detours and other disruptions. 

* Pack your carryon for an overnight stay. I always pack change of clothes and toiletries in our carryon bags, 'just in case' and 'never' need them. This time they came in handy.

*Don't assume there will be time to grab food and drink.  Pack a snack with you.

* Have a 'disaster fund' for emergencies, like needing to pay for an unplanned meal or hotel room along the way. As we learned, even with vouchers, you may end up paying for items.

*And travel with some means of accessing the internet at wherever your destination might be. Airport staff and help desks are becoming scarce. There is an expectation that you will turn to the internet to check in, to find answers to questions, and to solve your own problems.  I can't imagine traveling without a mobile device or laptop nowadays.

The Stone House on the Hill

With those words of advice, I will end our travel tale. We are home on the hill in Greece and have no desire to see an airport anytime soon.  

We wonder how many of you have had travel plans upended in your recent travels.  Please share your stories in the comments below or shoot us an email. Let us know the problem and how it was resolved.  If enough of you participate, I will use your tales in the next blog post!  

Thanks for being with us today. Safe travels to you and yours!